


Serendipity

by FireFaceOutlook



Series: Sidereal [3]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:20:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23563699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireFaceOutlook/pseuds/FireFaceOutlook
Summary: Jameson had not existed long, compared to Jack's other creations, and as the youngest member of the family, he had a lot to learn.  That being said, he was fairly certain that having words appear on his skin in what looked like ink, but wouldn't wash off, wasn't normal – unless he was forgetting something Very Important out of all the information his elders tried to cram into him on his first day.
Relationships: Jameson Jackson/Wilford Warfstache | William J. Barnum | The Colonel, Mark Fischbach & Mark Fischbach, Mark Fischbach & Sean McLoughlin, Mark Fischbach/Sean McLoughlin, Sean McLoughlin & Sean McLoughlin
Series: Sidereal [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1425514
Comments: 2
Kudos: 47





	Serendipity

**Author's Note:**

> **A/N: I've had this in the works for forever, because I couldn't figure out how to end it. I finally just went for it, and it looks alright, so I'm ready to share now. I hope you enjoy it!**   
>  ***When JJ speaks in bold, that means he's projecting his thoughts into another person's mind – and the words appear in their minds on the speech cards like in JJ's video.**

Jameson had not existed long, compared to Jack's other creations, and as the youngest member of the family, he had a lot to learn. That being said, he was fairly certain that having words appear on his skin in what looked like ink, but wouldn't wash off, wasn't normal – unless he was forgetting something Very Important out of all the information his elders tried to cram into him on his first day. After vigorously scrubbing at the mark for a few minutes, resulting in nothing but the reddening of the skin around it, he was officially panicking. He bolted from his room's adjoined bathroom and took the stairs two at a time until he reached the living area where most of the other Egos were enjoying their time off together, watching a movie. Chase, Schneeplestein, and Marvin were on the couch while Robbie and Bingsepticeye sat on the floor; Jackie was spread across a love seat and Anti was sitting cross-legged in mid-air by the doorway. Almost as one, they turned to face him when he rushed into the room and stumbled to a halt between them and the tv.

“Woah, Jamie, what's wrong?” Jackie asked, sitting up.

JJ frantically waved his hands at his fellow Egos, forming half-signs that he was still learning, forgetting for a moment that he could tell them what he needed with his magic, but apparently his point got across because Schneeplestein caught one of his hands and turned it palm-up. There on his wrist in a delicate, maroon-colored cursive that resembled his handwriting was _William J. Barnum_.

"Calm down, Jameson," the doctor chuckled. "It's just your soulmark.”

_Oh_ – that would be the thing he was forgetting. The others gasped collectively before he was suddenly being crowded. Jackie clapped him on the back, almost sending him sprawling, while the rest attempted to talk over each other – most of them appeared to be trying to guess who William could possibly be. 'Obviously an Ego,' was all he could really catch. Of course, not everyone was celebrating the good(?) news. Chase was still sitting on the couch, a bittersweet smile on his lips, and even with the space between them, JJ could see the words inked onto the back of his hands – the names of his children – and knew there was a silvery scar spelling out _'Stacy'_ where his palm met his wrist. In the doorway, Anti turned away before JJ could make eye contact, clamping a hand over his shoulder and glitching out of sight. And even Henrik, who was smiling, had a tinge of sadness in his eyes, and the youngest Ego could see the edge of a scar peeking out from under his shirt, near his collarbone. The mute was suddenly concerned – if the strongest (mentally, emotionally, and spiritually) of them hadn't had the best of luck concerning their soulmates, what would happen regarding his?

After everyone had settled down a little, Schneeplestein let him retrieve his arm with one more piece of advice: “Don't ask others about their soulmarks. It's a personal matter that they must choose to share willingly.”

Jameson understood, and though he had just blindly shown the others his own, he knew that he would've revealed it even if he'd remembered what it was for. He joined the others in finishing the movie as he pondered the strange phenomenon. From what he recalled being told, a soulmark appeared when one made a connection with someone who could be their destined if the feelings were returned. If their soulmate denied their bond, the ink faded, and if they lost their feelings for their soulmate in return (or their soulmate died), the ink would completely disappear, leaving behind their name engraved in the skin as scars. Like Chase and Dr. Schneeplestein's situations – Chase with his divorce, and Henrik's wife and daughter's deaths. If there was anything else that he'd been told about it, he couldn't quite recall.

He was drawn away from his thoughts by a nudge. He glanced over to find that Marvin and Bing had swapped seats. Marvin was without his cape and cat mask, exposing the marks on his cheekbones that mirrored the red lines on his mask; he was clad in faded jeans and a baggy Spiderman sweater that Jameson is fairly certain the magician stole from Jackie.

“Do you wanna see mine?”

JJ's eyes widened. **“But Schneep said-”**

“I _want_ to show you.” With that, Marvin leaned against him, shoulder to shoulder, and tugged up the bottom of his left jean leg. There, curving over the bone of his ankle in perfectly straight lettering – like on a word document – was the name _Googleplier_ ; it was in a gradient of colors from blue to red to yellow to green. JJ felt his jaw drop slightly. “As far as I know, he doesn't have any names,” Marvin admitted softly, letting the mark be covered again. “He's an android – he might not even obey the laws of soulmarks. But it's nice to imagine that someday...” He shrugged slightly.

JJ smiled. He liked Marvin's optimism, and decided that maybe he could share it while figuring out who his own soulmate was.

  


The Septiceye Household was two stories tall and crammed full of many rooms: seven bedrooms, a spacious laundry room in the basement, a kitchen, living area, and various rooms for the Egos' hobbies, like Schneep's infirmary and Bing's computer room – in short, it was much larger on the inside than the outside. The house was always busy, and while Jameson loved socializing as much as the next Ego, sometimes he just needed to be alone, so the roof or the backyard garden became his go-to spots for solitude. The former happened to be where he first met Wilford Warfstache, and somehow the two became close friends, bonding over their shared “men out of time”-ness.

“Well, that's peculiar,” Wilford drawled when Jameson told him about his predicament.

They were seated on the roof - their usual spot to hang out, since most of the other Septiceyes didn't really appreciate Iplier Egos invading the house out of the blue. JJ didn't show Wil his soulmark, not because he didn't trust him, but because it was something considered private or intimate (and everyone except Robbie and Marvin warned him off of showing it to anyone outside the family, and being the “baby” brother, he was inclined to listen). But that didn't mean he couldn't tell Wilford about the fact that he didn't know who his soulmate was, despite having to have at least met them in passing in order for his soul to connect with theirs.

**“So you've never heard of this happening before?”** Jameson asked, slightly disheartened. Wilford had existed long before JJ was even a concept – before _any_ of the Septiceyes were created, and even before the other Ipliers were brought to life – so he'd hoped that he could help.

“Sorry, ol' chap, but I'm afraid I haven't. Perhaps Dark would know, or Dr. Iplier. I can ask them, if you would like?”

JJ agreed and the two sat in silence for a few minutes, watching the waxy sky of the Void – it didn't mimic the sky of the normal world perfectly, but it was close enough. Truly, Anti, Dark, and Wilford's powers over the realm they lived in was astonishing. It kept humans who wandered in on accident from freaking out or spontaneously dying from the shock of the nothing-and-everything aspect of the void. Only those who had a connection to an Ego could see the void as it was and leave unscathed. 

Wilford suddenly broke the silence. “I have a soulmark, too.”

JJ looked over, surprised. Wil laughed at his expression, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his shirt, under his bowtie. Tugging the opening wider revealed, nestled in the hollow of Wilford's throat, the name _Celine_ in scrawled red penmanship, except the edges were bordered by scars. Schneeplestein had never mentioned anything like that in his explanation of soulmarks.

“It's been a long time since we were together. I miss her so. When I close my eyes, I just see… her,” Wilford said wistfully. “Smiling. Laughing. Looking more beautiful by the minute.”

Jameson hesitated a moment, not wanting to cross any boundaries, then tentatively asked, **“Where is she, then? Why don't you go see her?”**

JJ had never seen Wilford look sad before. “She's a memory. That's all she is now.”

Jameson honestly didn't know how to respond to that. He felt like an apology would fall too flat, since he never knew her, so they returned to quietly enjoying each other's company until Wilford disappeared (literally) and JJ went back inside.

  


Over the next couple of weeks, JJ almost forgot about the soulmark completely. It didn't really have an effect on his everyday life, and he wasn't actively searching for his soulmate because he didn't feel a need to – after all, if they were truly meant to be, then they would find each other eventually. But one day, after taking a shower, as he dried his hair with a towel (“Like a heathen!” Chase had once teased him), he noticed a second line of color under his soulmark. _William J. Butterfield_ was what it read, in a more magenta shade than the first name, and he didn't know what it meant. He'd never gotten dressed so quickly in his entire life, tripping his way down the stairs and darting through the kitchen (startling a sleepy Robbie) to the hall where Dr. Schneeplestein's medical room was. He barely remembered to knock before he barged in. 

Schneep didn't have any explanations for him, except that maybe his soulmate was known by a different name in some places. “Maybe we were wrong,” he said with a shrug. “Maybe they aren't an Ego?”

Except they both knew that his soulmate had to be an Ego, because the only humans he knew were Jack, Mark, and their friends, and none of them were named “William.” But he just nodded, because perhaps his soulmate was an Ego who'd spent a lot of time in the normal world, and they used different names so they couldn't be traced back to their host. JJ only had one question: was the first or second name the real one? That question became a lot more complicated when a few more weeks passed and yet another name appeared in a lighter shade of color – _Wilson Jackson Bartholomew, III_.

  


The Septiceye and Iplier Egos didn't ever really occupy the same space for an extended amount of time – at least, not all of them at once. The only exceptions were the parties they had. The only planned parties were held during the holidays – New Years, Easter (specifically celebrated for Chase's kids), Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas – and birthdays. Of course, that was too few parties in the opinion of the “fun” members of the Iplier family (Bim Trimmer, Bingiplier and, of course, Wilford). Dark was always annoyed by their spontaneous celebrations, but never said no as long as they didn't have anything super important to do. So, despite Halloween closing in soon, Wilford and the others decided to throw a party for the Hell of it. The Septiceyes accepted, as they usually did, but when they arrived, JJ was with them. Not that Wilford was in any way unhappy with that, but JJ had always declined invitations in the past.

The party was held in high spirits, everyone catching up and swapping stories about the shenanigans happening in their respective households or on their hosts' channels, and only really began to die down past midnight. By that time, everyone had a bit to drink – with the Ipliers taking proper precautions to ensure neither them nor Mark were going to be in any danger –, some to the point of passing out (Anti, Dr. Iplier, Bim, and Shawn, to name a few). Wilford was on the _only had a few_ side of the spectrum, alongside Dark, who never really let himself go too far because of the damage his aura could wrought uninhibited, and Chase, who was the “designated sober” making sure the Septiceyes got home safely.

While Dark and Wilford sat at the bar that Wil had summoned specifically for the party, the conscious – and not completely sober – Septiceyes sat in a circle on the floor under the tv on the wall (with the exception of Marvin, who was on the couch, drooling on [Blue] Google's shoulder as the Ego scrolled through the holographic screen emitting from his shirt's glowing logo). Jameson was a few drinks past tipsy and his usual iron-control on his telepathy was wavering, leaving his “voice” to echo in and out of the peripheral of everyone's minds. Near tears and completely unaware of his partial mental broadcasting, JJ was discussing his soulmate situation with Schneep – who was really drunk and half-asleep – and Chase. He lamented about how he wasn't so sure he'd wanted to find them at first, but now, even if he _did_ want to, he wasn't sure how he would, because he had five names on his arm at that point, each one a lighter shade of pink than the last. He even pulled up his sleeve to emphasize his point, causing Chase to cast a flustered glance around, and complained in a warbling “voice,” **“How do you even find anyone with the name _Winkleheimer_?”**

Unbeknownst to them, across the room, Wilford choked on the drink he was nursing and spit it out – nearly spraying Dark, who glared at him, auras leaking from the shell that was his stolen skin. Wil was too busy staring across the room at JJ, who was now sobbing as Chase drew him into a sympathetic hug, to pay much mind to his possible impending doom. An itching, burning sensation crawled across his back, and hours later, after Chase, with the assistance of the Googles, corralled the Septiceyes home, Wilford found _Jameson Jackson_ scrawled in teal across the nape of his neck.

  


Wilford didn't like labels, but he could only solemnly agree with Bim that he was having a “gay panic,” which was kind of amazing, considering he hadn't really known such a thing _actually_ existed. He thought it was something lazy writers used as a description because they didn't know how else to put it into words. And this lasted for a solid three weeks. Wilford didn't dare set foot anywhere near the Septiceye household in that time and instead mostly holed himself in Dark's office, blowing bubbles and hoping his more level-headed companion could toss some words of wisdom or advice his way.

_**“Stop being a coward and go speak to him.”** _

Wilford gave an offended gasp, mostly for show and a signal for Dark to go on. The gray-scaled Ego sighed, rolling his eyes as he set aside the paperwork he'd been trying to get done while keeping it safe from the hazard that was giant bubbles floating around the room and popping unpredictably. He folded his hands on the desk, and Wilford could've sworn he saw a glint of color across the arc of Dark's palm, leading towards his thumb.

_**“His name wouldn't have appeared if you didn't feel something for him,”**_ Dark explained patiently, though as if he were speaking to a child, which Wilford didn't much appreciate. _**“You need to discuss this with him, whether you plan on reciprocating his feelings or rejecting him – which would be an absolutely stupid decision on your behalf.”**_

“But... what about _Celine_?” Wilford almost whispered, sinking into one of the seats across the desk from Dark. “What if she comes back and I've just... tossed aside everything I felt for her to be with Jameson?”

Dark looked startled, and his red aura flared, consuming the blue. For a second, Dark's visage faltered, and Wilford saw _her_ , his dear _Celine_ , expression warped in pain and anger, but her eyes soft with love for him. Dark slammed his hands on the desk, causing the wood to crack as he used it to stand. He remained hunched over the desk, breathing heavily as he reigned the red aura back in, and once he had a semblance of control again, he sat and ran a hand over his face, looking exhausted. Wilford felt a little guilty and thrown off by the... hallucination? he'd just seen, but Dark spoke before he could apologize.

**_“Celine isn't coming back,”_** Dark said monotonously – words he's spoken to Wilford multiple times before, but somehow, it felt more concrete this time. **_“She loves –_ loved _you, Wil. She would want you to be happy, and if that means being with someone new, so be it.”_**

Wilford looked down at his hands, clasped in his lap. Dark let him be with his thoughts, returning to his paperwork. It felt like hours – and mostly likely was at _least_ an hour – before Wilford stirred, looking... not _content_ , but something close. He stood, a determined glint in his eyes. Dark didn't even glance up, waving a hand dismissively. Wilford caught the hand between both of his, catching a glimpse of what he was entirely certain was a faded name, as well as convincing Dark to lift his head, looking unimpressed.

“ _Thank you_ , Dark,” he said, so sincerely that it summoned a brief, minuscule smile from the other being.

_**“If you're quite done disturbing me,”**_ Dark intoned, extracting his hand, _**“I'm busy and you have elsewhere to be.”**_

“Right.” Wilford nodded firmly. “I have a date! To plan!”

  


Jameson sat at the kitchen table, one arm outstretched on the tablecloth. He tapped the fingers of his free hand on the covered wood, watching the letters of the newest name fade into existence slowly. That hadn't happened with any of the other names; so far, there was _Wil-_ , and JJ wondered if another “William” was going to be inked into his skin.

_“H͞e̡y, ҉JJ̕,”_ Anti greeted as he floated into the kitchen.

Jameson waved back, a little surprised to see him. It was pretty early – only five in the morning – and out of all the Egos, Anti and Schneeplestein liked their sleep the most when they could get it. Schneep was a notoriously early riser and had a bad habit of staying up too late and pulling all-nighters if he didn't think he'd get more than four hours of sleep, relying heavily on coffee. Anti, however, had a sporadic sleep schedule; he had a hard time falling asleep in the first place, but when he did, he tried to sleep in as long as possible. Sometimes that meant _days_ would pass before he was up and about again.

JJ watched his elder go through the motions of making a bowl of cereal – another surprise, because while eating benefited him like it would any normal human, he didn't require sustenance, and usually forgot or forewent consuming meals for extended periods of time. Anti dropped the bowl onto the table, taking a seat next to JJ despite the plethora of empty chairs. As he shoveled his first few spoonfuls into his mouth, his eyes drifted to JJ's arm. Usually Jameson liked wearing long sleeves, but he was clad in jeans and a graphic t-shirt with Septic Sam on it because – well, it hadn't really been _too_ conscious a choice; he just grabbed whatever looked good, and his current outfit was borne from it.

_“J̢es͏ųs,͜”_ Anti muttered under his breath. _“͡Bast̢ard s̛ure ̧g͜o͏t ͞a҉ l̴o̷t̴ ͏o͘f n͏ames̡, ͜hu͘h͢?̶ ̧ You eve̶r ͞g͟o͝nna̢ ̨con͟fro̷nt ̷him ͢a̷bout̷ '̶ęm?̛”_

JJ gave him a curious look in response and they stared at each other for a minute in silence before Anti's eyes widened and he swallowed his next spoonful much too soon, choking on it. Jameson panicked and whacked him on the back, hard, causing the mouthful of cereal to fly out across the table. The mute grimaced in disgust, pulling his arms close to himself as Anti coughed and patted his chest.

_“Y̢ou s͠e͞r̛io͘u͜sl̷y ̛hav̨en't c̛a̛u̕gh͟t̸ ͏on t͢o ͢w҉ḩo he ͘is?”_ he asked incredulously once he was sure he wasn't about to die.

Before JJ could reply, there was a rapid knocking on the front door.

“I got it!” Angus called, and there was a series of loud thumps as the survival hunter ran down the stairs. The door creaked as it was swung open, and both JJ and Anti twisted and leaned in their chairs to peer out the kitchen doorway towards the entrance. Angus was cheerfully greeting Wilford, who returned the sentiment with a hearty shoulder clap. Anti and Jameson exchanged glances – **“Do they know each other?”** _“He̶l҉l i͏f͢ ͝I k̢n͘ow͝.̷”_ – and when they returned their gazes to the duo, they were heading for the kitchen. Anti and JJ scrambled to return to their normal sitting positions, but while Jameson managed just fine, Anti glitched out in the middle of his re-seating motion and clipped through the chair, hitting the floor with a groan.

********

“Anti, are you okay?” Angus asked, though from his amused expression and the laughter he attempted to stifle, he knew exactly what happened. As he helped the glitch up, Wilford turned his attention to JJ.

********

“Jameson, are you free today?”

********

JJ blinked in surprise at the out-of-the-blue question. **“Uh, I don't-”**

********

_“H͡e'͢ş fre͠e̵,”_ Anti replied for him, successfully sitting in his seat this time. _“Bu͢t͞ ͝h͝e b̶ett͏e͞r be̶ ba͟ck b҉e̢f҉o̢re͡ e̶l͡e̸v̡e͞n o̸r ͜y̸ou ̨mig͘ḩt ̨f̧in͠d ̛yo̶urse͝l͢f ̕mi̕ssing a few͠ f͡in̷ge̵rs.҉”_

********

JJ gaped at his elder, not because he answered for him, but because he threatened his friend. _Right in front of him!_ But Wilford seemed to take it in good humor.

********

“Of course, of course, gentleman’s honor,” he said, pressing a hand to his chest and offering the other to Jameson. “Come, ol' chap. Let’s go have some fun.”

********

As JJ took the older ego’s hand, the fresh name finished printing itself across his skin. _Wilford Warfstache_ , it read, and he felt a wave of warmth flow through him. As Wilford led him towards the door, JJ looked up and saw his own name gleaming at him from just above the collar of Wilford's shirt and a sense of wonder filled him as he felt… _complete_.

********

**Author's Note:**

>  _ **Prompt(s):**_  
>  _“When I close my eyes, I just see … her. Smiling. Laughing. Looking more beautiful by the minute.”  
>  “Where is she, then? Why don’t you go see her?”  
> “She’s a memory. That’s all she is now.” _ **[@writing-reading-bitch-queen]**  
>  _Each others’ names on their wrist/palm/etc_ **[@r-evolve-art]**
> 
> **A/N: The general idea went something like this...**  
>  _ **[...]** so the Iplier and Septiceye Egos are having a party at the Iplier Manor (Bim, Bingiplier, and Wil's idea), and everyone's had a bit to drink, some more than others, and JJ is on the _more _spectrum and Wil is on the_ only had a few _spectrum, and JJ doesn't really ever drink, so he hasn't had a lot, but he's tipsy enough that he doesn't have full control over his telepathy, so everyone else is getting like faint echos of his "voice" in their minds, and he's near tears and complaining to Schneep and Chase (Schneep is really drunk and half asleep, and Chase is sober to make sure all his bros get home safe) about his soulmate situation because he wasn't so sure he wanted to find them at first, but now even if he wanted to, he wasn't sure how he would, because he has like five names on his arm, and he pulls up his sleeve and is like, **"How do you even find anyone with the name**_ **Winkleheimer _?"_** _and across the room, Wilford chokes on his drink, spitting it out and nearly hitting Dark, who punches him in the arm, but he's too busy staring across the room at poor JJ, who's sobbing now, and he feels a tingling/burning sensation between his shoulder blades as Jameson Jackson forms in a teal scrawl ___


End file.
